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As the Sorcerer Said
"Suddenly I realised how I had been duped. I had been seduced and sold like a slave to an old white man. A feeling of hatred blurred my vision - hatred for all white people who had always deceived us, humiliated and mocked us since my first ancestor was wrenched from his African coast."
A young girl, alone and frightened far from her island home, in a room like a hospital ward. But she isn't ill - so why is she here and what has she done?
Myriam Warner-Vieyra was born in Guadeloupe and now lives in Senegal, where she is a librarian and researcher at the University of Dakar. This is her first novel.
-from the back cover
A young girl, alone and frightened far from her island home, in a room like a hospital ward. But she isn't ill - so why is she here and what has she done?
Myriam Warner-Vieyra was born in Guadeloupe and now lives in Senegal, where she is a librarian and researcher at the University of Dakar. This is her first novel.
-from the back cover
73 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1980
About the author
Myriam Warner-Vieyra
3 books9 followersMyriam Warner-Vieyra (born March 25, 1939) is a Guadeloupean-born writer.
The daughter of Caribbean parents, she was born Myriam Warner in Pointe-à-Pitre. She completed secondary school in Europe and moved to Dakar in Senegal. She earned a diploma in library science at Cheikh Anta Diop University and has worked for several years as a librarian. In 1961, she married the film director Paulin Soumanou Vieyra.
Several of her poems were published in the literary magazine Présence Africaine in 1976. Her first novel, written in 1980, was Le Quimboiseur l'avait dit (As The Sorcerer Said), which is set in the Caribbean. Her second novel Juletane, published in 1982, is the story of a Caribbean woman who married a Senegalese man who, she discovers, is already married. This was followed by a collection of stories, Femmes échouées (Fallen women), in 1988.
(from Wikpedia)
The daughter of Caribbean parents, she was born Myriam Warner in Pointe-à-Pitre. She completed secondary school in Europe and moved to Dakar in Senegal. She earned a diploma in library science at Cheikh Anta Diop University and has worked for several years as a librarian. In 1961, she married the film director Paulin Soumanou Vieyra.
Several of her poems were published in the literary magazine Présence Africaine in 1976. Her first novel, written in 1980, was Le Quimboiseur l'avait dit (As The Sorcerer Said), which is set in the Caribbean. Her second novel Juletane, published in 1982, is the story of a Caribbean woman who married a Senegalese man who, she discovers, is already married. This was followed by a collection of stories, Femmes échouées (Fallen women), in 1988.
(from Wikpedia)
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Displaying 1 of 1 review
March 10, 2016
This is an intriguing little novella that feels like part one of something bigger to me. Zetou, the narrator, wakes up in what seems to be a hospital ward, with white French girls of her own age group. It emerges that she has recently arrived from one of its island 'departments' in the Caribbean – a fictional place richly imbued with authenticity by lovely description. Slowly, she recalls the chain of events that led up to the moment.
I couldn't help thinking of Annie John, which is also about a young girl's departure from the Caribbean, but Myriam Warner-Vieyra works more straightforwardly here. In Annie John, the narration lingers over image after image, and those wonderfully suggestive visions seem permanently lodged in my mind. Zetou is much more direct and deliberate in her recall; at first she takes refuge in the past, and working from there, she confronts recent happenings. This approach finds the seeds of her situation sown in the past; her father's and beloved grandmother's lack of support for her desire to stay in education (they are indifferent, rather than hostile to her wishes), her mother's departure, her teacher's attitude...
The introduction is interesting, offering in fairytale outline an idealised alternative to the story Zetou relates. In the reality, the 'smart boy' of the fairytale is Zetou's neighbour and close friend, who represents the bright future she sees for herself. Her family offer just-about-adequate material and emotional support, and her daily life is suffused with the bounteous beauty of her homeland. When her mother Rosamond leaves the island with a white man, Mr Milan, it's easy to judge her, but it's possible to find sympathy for her as desperately dissatisfied with a life of only childcare and housework, a life Zetou also intends to refuse. Rosamond's 'love of white people' causes her to favour her lighter skinned son and, it seems, directs how she will see and treat Zetou later in the story. Zetou's teacher, Mrs Paule, almost expels her for sharing her discovery of their African and slave heritage, which Mrs Paule wants to deny. Ultimately, it's these women's investment in white-supremacy that leads to Zetou's traumatic experiences.
Although written in a simple style, plausibly the voice of a bright teenager, this deals with complex themes, sometimes ambiguously as when Zetou prefers the term 'department' to 'colony' because she wants to think of it as a friendly relationship, recalling 'the fox who wanted to be tamed' in The Little Prince! Zetou turns out to be in a 'socio-psychological' ward which is kept locked and has barred windows. The medicalisation of her behaviour may seem outrageous, but Warner-Vieyra refuses to simplify concepts of mental health and illness, as Zetou fears she is actually losing her sanity – she may well be suffering PTSD. Fortunately, despite its disturbing prisonlike aspects and some exotification of Zetou, the hospital offers genuine care to her. A senior doctor refers her 'our little island flower' to a 'coloured' doctor because 'she'll feel more comfortable with you', the girls in her ward are mostly quite friendly, and one of the cooks who brings the girls' tasteless (but apparently reasonably nutritious) meals turns out to be from the same island as Zetou, and promises to make her a 'treat' from 'back home' with 'a bit of spice' that will do her 'more good than medicine'. From the ending, Zetou's story could go in all sorts of directions. My only complaint about this book is that there isn't more of it.
I couldn't help thinking of Annie John, which is also about a young girl's departure from the Caribbean, but Myriam Warner-Vieyra works more straightforwardly here. In Annie John, the narration lingers over image after image, and those wonderfully suggestive visions seem permanently lodged in my mind. Zetou is much more direct and deliberate in her recall; at first she takes refuge in the past, and working from there, she confronts recent happenings. This approach finds the seeds of her situation sown in the past; her father's and beloved grandmother's lack of support for her desire to stay in education (they are indifferent, rather than hostile to her wishes), her mother's departure, her teacher's attitude...
The introduction is interesting, offering in fairytale outline an idealised alternative to the story Zetou relates. In the reality, the 'smart boy' of the fairytale is Zetou's neighbour and close friend, who represents the bright future she sees for herself. Her family offer just-about-adequate material and emotional support, and her daily life is suffused with the bounteous beauty of her homeland. When her mother Rosamond leaves the island with a white man, Mr Milan, it's easy to judge her, but it's possible to find sympathy for her as desperately dissatisfied with a life of only childcare and housework, a life Zetou also intends to refuse. Rosamond's 'love of white people' causes her to favour her lighter skinned son and, it seems, directs how she will see and treat Zetou later in the story. Zetou's teacher, Mrs Paule, almost expels her for sharing her discovery of their African and slave heritage, which Mrs Paule wants to deny. Ultimately, it's these women's investment in white-supremacy that leads to Zetou's traumatic experiences.
Although written in a simple style, plausibly the voice of a bright teenager, this deals with complex themes, sometimes ambiguously as when Zetou prefers the term 'department' to 'colony' because she wants to think of it as a friendly relationship, recalling 'the fox who wanted to be tamed' in The Little Prince! Zetou turns out to be in a 'socio-psychological' ward which is kept locked and has barred windows. The medicalisation of her behaviour may seem outrageous, but Warner-Vieyra refuses to simplify concepts of mental health and illness, as Zetou fears she is actually losing her sanity – she may well be suffering PTSD. Fortunately, despite its disturbing prisonlike aspects and some exotification of Zetou, the hospital offers genuine care to her. A senior doctor refers her 'our little island flower' to a 'coloured' doctor because 'she'll feel more comfortable with you', the girls in her ward are mostly quite friendly, and one of the cooks who brings the girls' tasteless (but apparently reasonably nutritious) meals turns out to be from the same island as Zetou, and promises to make her a 'treat' from 'back home' with 'a bit of spice' that will do her 'more good than medicine'. From the ending, Zetou's story could go in all sorts of directions. My only complaint about this book is that there isn't more of it.
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